


Don't Look Down

by vials



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Badass Q, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck in a helicopter and being shot at isn’t Q’s idea of a good time, but he’ll be damned if he lets himself and James die in a fiery wreck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Look Down

**Author's Note:**

> Bringing this over from my Tumblr (v1als)!

“I can’t do this, James.”

“Well, that’s a bit tough, isn’t it, really, because –”

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Q said desperately. “ _I can’t do this_.”

He had to shout to be heard over the roar of the rotorblades above them; a constant reminder that really, James was right. It was much too late for second thoughts. Not that he’d had enough time to have a first thought.

“Just…” James said, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Just don’t look down.”

“I can’t really _help it_ ,” Q squeaked, gesturing to the windows all around them.

“Be thankful it’s not one of those helicopters with a glass bubble for a cockpit,” James said, smiling, and Q would have reached over and hit him if it hadn’t been for the combined fact that he was too terrified to move and also James was piloting.

“You’re not helping!”

“Look, close your eyes if you have to,” James said, his tone slightly more sympathetic now he could hear Q beginning to hyperventilate. “But there’s no other choice here.”

Q took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to pretend that they were just on a train or something else firmly attached to the ground. Aside from the noise, it wasn’t difficult to pretend. James was at least proficient with flying this type of helicopter and as a result the flight was relatively smooth. Q tried to ignore all thoughts of catastrophe, whether in the form of sudden bad weather or enemy intervention.

“Do you think they’re after us?” he asked, after a few moments of nothing but the steady beat of the rotorblades.

“Not sure!” James called back. That wasn’t promising. “I hope not.”

“I bloody _hope not_ too!” Q said, gripping his seat so tightly he was sure his knuckles were white. “Of all the ways we could have escaped you _had_ to go for the most conspicuous and the most _dangerous_ —”

“Statistically,” James said, glancing at Q. “Flight is much safer than road travel. My track record with cars is much worse than my track record with aircraft.”

“Oh? And what’s your track record with aircraft?”

“With me flying?” James asked. “So far only one plane, and that wasn’t even my fault. Someone was shooting at me. So there, now you know it’s survivable.”

“It’s highly unlikely that—”

Q was interrupted by something louder than the rotors; loud enough that Q could feel it in his chest. He was so startled that he opened his eyes and looked at James, briefly forgetting the expanse of sky and cloud visible all around him.

“Looks like we’re going to be testing that theory,” James said. “Hold on.”

The helicopter pitched to the right; Q tightened his grip on the seat, now too terrified to even close his eyes. He saw the horizon tilt far past what he thought should be acceptable; as the helicopter turned, he caught a flash of another aircraft alongside them.

“Q,” James said, and the urgency in his voice was enough to briefly snap Q out of his terror. “Climb into the back. Get away from the windows.”

Q went to unbuckle his seatbelt before he froze up again, his chest tight. “James –”

“Quickly,” James told him. “There are seats back there. Just get out of the way.”

Q unclipped the seatbelt and got halfway to his feet, ducking down as he turned towards the back. He clung to the chair for as long as possible and then made a jump for the back, clinging on to the doorway and then edging his way along the sides, clinging to the various straps and ropes there. He tried not to look a little further ahead, where the side door was open and it was a clear view to the empty sky outside. Q sat as close to the front as he could, but he knew it wouldn’t make a difference – he and James wouldn’t be able to hear one another from this distance.

He didn’t know what was worse. Being up front had been bad enough, when he had been able to see the height they were at, but sitting in the back with the wind whipping around him and no clues as to what was going on just made his imagination run wild. He clung to the straps holding him in his seat, squeezing his eyes tightly closed and trying to ignore the bursts of rhythmic thuds against the side of the helicopter; the occasional moment of weightlessness as James pulled the aircraft around or quickly descended. Q was certain he would be sick if this carried on, and he had no idea how long the helicopter would hold up for. It was a military helicopter, designed to take a battering, but Q knew that there were always hits that couldn’t be recovered from. If the shots took out the rotors or the tail, there would be nothing they could do.

A sudden surge of anger flooded him and Q opened his eyes with a gasp, his heart thudding in his chest. He didn’t want to die like this. With James only able to concentrate on trying to avoid the attack, they had no way of defending themselves. No way unless…

Q’s eyes travelled to the door gun, opposite him and slightly to the left. It wasn’t far to reach it, and he knew how to use it. He could see it was ready for operation; more importantly, he could see the rounds were large and likely armour-piercing. If he could just get across to it, they might stand a chance. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe they stood a chance otherwise.

James quickly changed direction again and Q took his chance, unclipping the seatbelt once the helicopter had steadied and darting across the open space before James pulled it around in any other direction. He managed to reach the gun just as James changed direction again; grabbing onto it, he held on with everything he had as the floor tilted and he felt himself beginning to slip. There was another moment of weightlessness as James pushed the helicopter quickly down and to the right; Q managed to hold on until the pull lessened and he was able to pull himself into a better position.

There was no way to tell James he was now crouched in front of an open door, his only method of restraint being how tightly he could hold on to a large gun. Q busied himself with the weapon so he didn’t have to think about that fact too much himself. He would have to act quickly – once they realised he was firing back, he knew where they would prioritise their shots. He gripped the gun and pulled it around, scanning for the other aircraft. There was no sign of it at the moment and Q forced himself to keep searching, deliberately ignoring the land he could just see far below them.

Suddenly, he caught a flash of movement. The other aircraft was above them, moving down alongside them. Q gripped the weapon tighter and readied himself. The second it was in range, he would fire. He took a deep breath, trying to pretend that this was just another standard weapons test.

The other helicopter dipped down into range and Q opened fire. The gun was deafening this close up but was thankfully firmly mounted; Q barely had to worry about recoil ruining his aim. The first few shots still went wild – Q had almost forgotten how fast they were actually going – but then he saw the telltale spark of a round making contact with metal. He remembered what he had been thinking about earlier and swept the gun back slightly, aiming for the tail. The helicopter was turning, evidently taken by surprise, and Q followed its movement, seeing several more sparks as the round hit up along the cabin towards the tail. It was harder to hit a narrower target; Q saw several more rounds go wild before he briefly landed the rear rotor right in his sights.

Several more sparks and then a loud bang that reached Q even across the open air. Q saw a flash of flame and suddenly the helicopter was spinning rapidly out of range. He let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, peering out further in time to see it spiralling towards the ground.

The sight made him feel dizzy; he recoiled away from the door, taking deep, shaky breaths. When he was sure his legs would take his weight he stood up, clinging to the straps and ropes again as he made his way back towards the front. James glanced behind him as he came through, looking as though he had been splitting his attention between what was ahead and what the hell had been going on behind him.

“They’re gone,” Q said, weakly, collapsing back into his seat. James looked at him again, barely hiding the smile that was beginning to tug at his lips. “And if you make _one_ quip about a trigger needing to be pulled, I _will_ end you,” Q added.

James just laughed, reaching over and squeezing Q’s knee. Q lay a hand over his, squeezing back, and somehow found the strength to laugh as well.


End file.
